


Avalanche I Need

by RowboatCop



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Coulson giving up control, D/s overtones, Early days of a secret relationship, Established Relationship, F/M, Oral sex as power exchange, Secret Relationship, gives me such X-Files feels, loving someone but being unable to talk about everything
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-29
Updated: 2014-09-29
Packaged: 2018-02-19 06:41:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2378585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RowboatCop/pseuds/RowboatCop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pre-2x01. There's too much that Skye and Coulson can't openly discuss, but that doesn't stop them from taking comfort in each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Avalanche I Need

**Author's Note:**

> All the looks in 2x01 give me "hidden relationship" vibes, and I have *such feels* about secret relationships amidst vast dangerous conspiracies filled with things that can't really be talked about. So, yeah, even though this isn't the way things are and we all know it...it seemed like fun. 
> 
> I also have complex feelings about oral sex as a form of power exchange (giving up control to someone you trust to have your best interests at heart; taking control of someone else's pleasure) which...yeah.

Skye steps into his office and kicks the door shut, leans back with her knee bent and the sole of her boot pressed into the wood behind her.

“Director Coulson.”

Her words are slow and sexy and almost frightening.

“Skye.”

“I haven’t seen you in almost three weeks.”

“I know. It’s been…”

“Busy, I know. And I figured that since you’re supposed to jet off again later today, I should catch you while I can.”

She emphasizes the _catch_ , and Coulson swallows. He’s been avoiding her, and they both know it.

It isn’t that he doesn’t want to spend time alone with Skye. It’s definitely not that he doesn’t want what her eyes are clearly offering. The first time she kissed him was basically wish fulfillment — sweet and soft becoming dirty and exploratory up against the wall of the lab. They had barely made it to her bunk before their clothes started falling off, and it had been too fast and too messy and too much and also exactly what they had both needed.

Twice more since then, on his last two trips back here, he’s given into this _thing_ between them, and both times they haven’t discussed what it means. It’s more than comfort — for him, anyways — and he thinks it means something more to Skye. But it’s like unspoken agreement that they can’t talk about it.

Can’t even acknowledge it.

As soon as it’s verbalized, defined, set, something will tear it apart.

So to see her in front of him, basically acknowledging it...feels dangerous.

“Koenig is on a lunch break,” she informs him. He knew that. “I brought back food from this great new deli in town. He’ll probably be busy for at least an hour.”

“Oh.”

“And you and I haven’t had a one-on-one in a _long time_ , AC.”

And _God_ he has missed that name. He exhales, _hard_ , at the sound of it. It’s almost a sigh, and he feels entirely out of control of this situation.

“No, we haven’t.”

“And I’ve been hoping you might change that.”

He swallows.

“How would I change that?”

“By inviting me into your office?”

And he _has_ been avoiding it, has been avoiding any chance of defining this, any chance that everyone else will be able to tell. He’s only been alone with her in public areas, only invited her in here for meetings when at least May was present. At the same time, though...

“You don’t need an invitation.”

Her smile grows, and she looks — amazing. The new haircut and the tight black pants and the determination in her gaze is so incredibly sexy in a way that he usually doesn’t let himself think about. Much. (Although, lately, it’s a lot more than it should be.)

“See, I’ve been _waiting_ for an invitation. And I’ve been really disappointed that you weren’t giving me one.”

“Skye.”

He breathes her name — in and out — as she approaches him.

“And I finally decided that, you know, I’d stop waiting.”

She steps around his desk, and Coulson freezes, his mouth goes dry, his hands clutch the arms of his chair.

He has never wanted someone _so badly_ but been so incapable of action, or even speech.

A few more steps, and Skye approaches his chair, places a hand on his shoulder, and pushes him gently, so that he rolls backwards from the desk far enough that she can climb onto his lap.

Coulson does absolutely nothing to stop her; instead shifts beneath her to allow room for her knees, grips her thighs as she settles above him.

Her hand lands at the knot of his tie and then slides downwards over the silk blend until her palm is at his belt buckle, and then her wrist twists so that her fingers land on his groin. Skye smiles wickedly at the feel of him, already half-hard. She lets her hand slip down further to cup him as blood surges to his cock.

“Are you going to pretend like you don’t want this, _sir_?”

He swallows back a groan when she squeezes her hand around him.

“No.”

“Good.”

She pauses then and meets his eyes, suddenly completely earnest.

“Does that mean you want it?”

“ _Yes_ ,” he sighs, raises his right hand to clutch the back of her neck and pull her towards him.

Their lips meet almost furiously, and Skye quickly takes control of the kiss even with his hand on her neck. As her tongue slides against his, her hands cup his cheeks, thumbs pressed into his jaw in order to force his mouth open as she explores him. Her tongue traces a ticklish curve across the roof of his mouth before she pulls back enough to focus on drawing his lower lip into her mouth.

“Skye,” he sighs her name as her lips slip from his own and down his neck in soft bites and sucking kisses that leave his whole body shaking.

He’s almost surprised when her hands move back to his belt, opening it and pushing down his pants without touching any of his other clothing. Coulson shifts, helping her partially undress him, and then her fingers start to explore. They’ve done this before — although not here, in his office, like this — but it’s also still so incredibly new.

Her hand is cool as it circles the hard length of him, and he groans at the feeling of soft, gentle strokes. As he tries to return the favor, though, fingers fumbling at her waist to remove some of her clothes, Skye grips his hands in each of hers and guides them to the arms of his chair.

She meets his eyes as she curls his fingers around the arm rests, and the request is clearly understood. He nods once, somewhere between fear and anticipation, and takes in a deep, slow, breath as her hand returns to continue stroking him.

“Skye,” he whispers, “kiss me.”

Her smile at that is almost dangerous, and she leans forward to press a brief peck on his lips before she shifts out of the chair and down to kneel on the floor. Soft kisses immediately fall on the tip of his penis and then down the shaft, and he draws in shuddering breaths as he tries to keep control.

His hands loosen their grips on the chair armrests, but Skye catches his unconscious intention to touch her almost before the movement registers in his brain. Gently, she wraps her hands around his, tightens his grip on the chair.

“Sorry,” he breathes.

Skye nods her understanding, but keeps her hands over his as she opens her mouth enough to pull the head of his cock inside. Her eyes are huge and soft and liquid, and he holds her gaze as she swirls her tongue around him.

“Christ, Skye,” he whispers as her tongue draws soft circles.

She smiles with her eyes as she puts a little more pressure on him and carefully lets go of his hands as she starts to bob her head. It’s a test — he can tell it’s a test of his control, of whether he’ll let go of the chair, of whether this is okay with him — and he tightens his grip, keeps his hands firmly in place.

When she’s sure that he’ll be appropriately obedient, her hands slide down to his still-covered thighs and make long, slow strokes from his knees up to the waist of his slacks. Her mouth moves in tandem with her hands — slow and gentle — as she looks up at him.

He’s the one that finally breaks their gaze when she sinks her mouth down further over him and he can’t quite stop his eyes from crossing, his hips from rising up off the chair. He groans, loudly, and he can almost feel her chuckle. When their eyes meet again, Skye looks incredibly pleased with herself, and also like she has entirely devoted herself to this — to his pleasure.

That idea has power, and the thought of Skye devoted only to him pushes him closer to orgasm than he should be, given how gentle her movements have been.

“Skye,” he breathes her name in warning, and is surprised when she pulls back, opens her mouth, and sucks in cold air across the head of his cock. It forces him back from the edge of orgasm, disappointing but effective.

Coulson swallows, shakes slightly in his chair, and then groans as Skye once again devotes herself to her task. As her mouth moves over him — faster, now, and with more purpose — her hands move upwards, pushing under his shirt to touch his belly and then down to caress the tops of his naked thighs.

When she sinks her mouth _all the way down_ , he clutches more tightly at the arms of his chair, is grateful for the padding on them as his arms shake with tension.

Skye moves over him faster — keeping the deep, intense strokes — and Coulson groans again, calls out her name as he feels tingling at the base of his spine. She pulls her lips off of him, though, and runs her tongue from the head of his cock down to the base.

He groans her name, loud and disappointed, as the stimulation stops again — can’t quite help the way his hips thrust off of the chair as if to chase after her mouth.

“Skye, _please_ ,” he begs.

Skye only smirks up at him and spirals her tongue up his shaft to lap at the seminal fluid collecting at the tip. He exhales harshly at the sensation, draws in another deep breath as her lips close back over the tip of him and she begins to slowly bob her head.

“ _Fuck_ that feels amazing.” He’s not a talker, not really, except that she clearly likes it — likes to hear how much she’s affecting him. “You’re incredible.”

Their eyes lock as she sucks hard, swirls her tongue repeatedly against the most sensitive part of his cock, and he loses any possibility of speech to an uncontrolled groan. It’s not enough stimulation to make him come, but he feels perched on the edge of something enormous. Heat crawls up his back and down his legs; he can feel himself start to sweat. He tightens his grip on the armrests, feels his forearms start to shake with the strain of it.

Skye pulls away then and blows cold air across the top of his cock, meets his eyes as her hand circles the base.

“You okay, _Director_?”

She makes it sound so _dirty_ , like it’s some sort of pet name between them, and he lets out an involuntary laugh at the idea that his position of authority means _anything_ right now.

“Yes,” he promises. “Please keep going.”

“Hmm.”

She teases him instead, slides her tongue down his shaft instead of where he really wants it.

“ _Please_.”

The begging earns him points, he can tell, and he lets himself do it freely.

“Please, Skye.”

She smiles at him as she brings her mouth back up, closes her lips back over him. He groans as her mouth sinks down, and she sets a frustratingly slow pace.

He holds her gaze for as long as she can as she drags her mouth up and down, slow and intense and torturing him with the sensual movements of her tongue. Finally he can’t take the sensation and the visual of it — her eyes on him, her lips around him, the sight of his shaft disappearing into her mouth. Coulson throws his head back as it overwhelms him and can’t stop his hips thrusting upwards, trying to speed up her slow, deliberate pace.

“ _Please_ ,” he begs again. “Please, let me come.”

She freezes, and for one heart-wrenching second he thinks she’s going to keep torturing him, before her pace picks up.

“Yes. _Skye_.”

Every part of his body tenses impossibly more — his hands squeeze tighter on the chair, his hips rise out of the seat and his legs, butt, and back shake from being overextended, held taut for too long.

Orgasm feels both tantalizingly close and terribly distant, and Coulson groans as every fiber in his body strains towards it. The feeling of Skye’s left hand landing on his right, pressing into his fingers comfortingly, barely registers. But the feel of her right hand pressing up under his balls, rubbing tight circles into the muscle there, is what finally makes him snap.

“Sk—”

His throat seizes up as he finally, finally comes. The first wave of it makes every muscle in his body impossibly more strained, and then it’s like he snaps. It’s more — bigger — than anything he’s ever felt before. The pleasure of it lasts almost too long and he’s not entirely convinced that he isn’t dying; it’s almost confusing, almost terrifying, except that it’s Skye and it’s him and it’s him and Skye and as he comes down he feels her hands gently stroking his.

“Skye,” he whispers when he can finally talk again.

She smiles up at him as she rises up and sits back in his lap. Slowly, she reaches for his right arm, pulls his hand off of the chair and begins to massage the muscles of his hand and wrist where he’s been straining so hard.

“Okay?”

She looks almost nervous, as though anything about that was less than spectacular, and he laughs — actually laughs and uncurls the fingers of his left hand from around the chair in order to pull her lips to his. They kiss lazily, and the fact that he can taste himself somehow makes it even better.

When she pulls back, it’s only to continue massaging his right hand before moving on to his left. It feels good — incredibly good — and he’s perhaps more relaxed than he’s ever been in his life.

“You look better,” she tells him as she finishes massaging his fingers. Her hands frame his face as she examines him. “You haven’t been sleeping, have you?”

“Not well, no. Have you…”

“I’ve been okay.”

“Good.”

They don’t talk about this, either. As though acknowledging it will make it real.

“I’m glad you’re here.”

Her words are strange — as though they aren’t exactly what she wants to say — and the secrecy of everything is stifling for a moment.

“I missed you,” he whispers, pulls her body up against him in a chaste hug. Or, at least, it would be chaste if his pants weren’t still pushed down around his thighs. “I always miss you when I’m not here.”

“Me, too.”

He nuzzles against the side of her head and sighs happily when she turns to kiss him — soft and slow, like it’s all they have to do in the world.

It’s not, though.

“Koenig will be back from lunch soon,” Skye whispers against his lips. He glances at the clock and is surprised at how much time has passed.

“Maybe I can cancel my flight,” he whispers against the side of her face, before pressing a kiss to her temple.

“We both know that isn’t going to happen. You’re going to be in London for a while, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“And you’ll see Simmons?”

“It’s likely.”

“And if you do…”

“I’ll let her know that everyone misses her.”

Skye nods, once, and there’s a long silence between them as they gaze at each other — fondly, but with some sadness.

“I think you might need a nap, Director Coulson.”

“Oh?”

Her fingers run down the side of his face, and it’s flirty but also concerned.

“You look tired. Maybe you’ll sleep better if I’m there?” And maybe she'll sleep better with him there, too.

He answers with a kiss, leaving unsaid more than he wants to. There’s so much between them that isn’t quite discussed, and he only hopes that the day to put everything on the table — some day when everything feels safer and less frantic — is coming soon.


End file.
